The text makes you blink a couple of times and whisper to yourself, "What?" You read it again, "Answer the phone when I call you." You send back, "Why?"
"Just do it," I send back.
Nervously, you wait for me to call and when the phone goes off, you click "answer" and breathe softly, "Hello?"
"Mmmm," I breathe, "I want to kiss you hard. Bite your lip and then lick my way down to your neck, and bite you right where your pulse pounds at the base of your throat."
"Baby, stop it." Your voice goes to a pitch you didn't know you had in you, "I'm sitting at my desk and g-"
"I know you are. I want to crawl under your desk and grab your knees, pull your chair as close as I can and kiss the insides of your fucking amazing thighs until you're ready to cum before I even put my mouth on your pussy."
"Jesus, Babe!" You hiss, running a hand through your hair and glancing around desperately as if everyone can hear what I'm saying.
"I want my tongue in your pussy," I continue in a husky voice.
Your throat feels like sandpaper when you swallow hard, your face burning bright red as you stare at the top of your desk now, your breathing picking up as you begin to picture the scene I'm playing out with words. "You do, do you," you manage to ask in a somewhat normal voice, just a bit rough around the edges.
I sigh now, knowing you don't want me to stop, "Oh yeah, I do," I answer with a sultry purr. "I want my tongue in your pussy. I want to suck your clit so hard..."
You tense, your stomach clenching at the words and the tone of my voice, and your mouth drops open as you notice how wet you are.
I can hear your heavy breathing and that just makes me wetter. Knowing I'm turning you on is more than I could ever have asked for, "What do you want me to do with my fingers?"
You close your eyes and shake your head sadly, "I can't say," you whisper and bite your lip.
"Do you want them in your hair?"
"Yes."
"On your breasts, scratching lightly over your nipples?"
"Yes."
"Are they hard?"
Your breath hitches and you push past it, forcing the air out of your lungs, "What?" They are hard. Painfully hard. Trying to poke out through your three layers of clothing. "Yes," you finally admit in a low voice.
"Baby..." I begin, my heart starting to race, "are you wet?"
You almost whimper, holding back at the last second. "I- yes."
"Really wet?" I ask, breathing in and out heavily.
Squirming uncomfortably in your seat, opening your eyes to glance around, and then closing them again as you answer, "Yes."
"How wet?" I press, sitting on the edge of my couch, back straight, straining to hear the answer.